


Purple Comes From Red And Blue

by mikronicos



Series: The Sun Doesn't Rise In Space [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Adam Lives, Blood, Death, F/F, F/M, Fusion, I just loved this idea so much I had to write it, M/M, Multi, Polyamorous Shiro, Polyamory, War and shit, a fix-it of sorts, fusion au, or rather he never dies, some graphic scenes I will warn you
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-01 20:30:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20264098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikronicos/pseuds/mikronicos
Summary: In a universe a bit different to the one we know, five (well, six, technically) people are about to go on a journey of self-discovery and trust, as well as slicing 'n dicing a few bad guys (and others of various genders) along the way.or: (almost) everyone is gay, space is filled with aggressive purple furries, fusions exist, and this is a ride y'all won't want to miss.





	1. chapter one: The Lore™

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Red and blue make purple](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15100562) by [FairyTailMember01](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairyTailMember01/pseuds/FairyTailMember01). 

> GUYS GIYS GUAY DKDJKA AKKSLAKAH OH MY GOD I'VE HAD THIS IN THE WORKS FOR SIX FUCKING MONTHS Y'ALL OH MY GOD I CAN'T WAIT TO SHOW YOU THIS

In this universe, about sixty years ago, the government used about twenty percent of the United States' population (mostly immigrants, because racism is a bitch) to perform genetic experiments to create super-soldiers. The subjects would "fuse", and, in the notes of a scientist studying the subjects:

_These strange mutations have caused the subjects to combine bodies, minds and personalities. They shall be henceforth referenced to as "fusions." However, most fusions are unstable. When their thought processes and brainwaves are not perfectly aligned, they glow. Depending on the disagreement, these glowings vary in size, from the fingertips to the entire half of a fusion's body. Some, however, are perfect matches. A perfect match is almost completely stable, and can remain stabilised indefinitely, to our knowledge. However, it is better to let them "unfuse" (also referenced to as "defusing") so as to let the subjects recuperate._

Decades later, the genetic strain is still around. Texas Kogane. Rosa McClain. Juniper Rosehill. Harley Parker. Thousands of real people living full, rich lives. And the next generation, in which people are bullied mercilessly for being related to or being a fusion. This story revolves around two people- one fusion- Klance.


	2. chapter two: in which the Naughty Boi takes the Pure and Nerd Bois on a ride, and aliens happen (part one of two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Look at the chapter title brochachos

Our story begins with a flight simulator in the most prestigious astro-explorer academy in the world, the Galaxy Garrison.

A dark-haired boy in an orange, white and grey flight suit grabs a walkie-talkie from its stowage point above him, “Galaxy Garrison flight log 5-11-14. Begin descent to Kerberos for rescue mission.” He tilts the control stick on his dashboard forward.

“Ugh. Klance, can you keep this thing straight?” A large Samoan boy in the same flight suit exclaims, hands moving frantically over a screen in front of him. He retches, nauseous, as the ship swerves.

Our pilot, Klance, is a tall boy with dark brown, almost black, hair and pale brown skin. “Relax, Hunk,” presumably the engineer behind him, “I’m just getting a feel for the stick. Besides, it’s not like I did this!” Klance jerks the control stick sharply to the right. The ship swerves in that direction, tossing its contents around wildly.

“Klance, stop it, unless you want to be stuck on cleaning duty again! I will throw up!” Hunk grabs the dashboard in front of him, stomach lurching. Klance huffs an annoyed sigh, but complies, shifting the controls for a smoother flight. A disruptive beeping sounds from the walkie-talkie that the communications officer has hanging on a small perch above them. The smaller figure, pale and slender with wide owlish eyes, calls out to the rest of their team, “Klance, we’ve picked up a distress beacon!” they peer over at the pilot, who somehow manages to exude an aura of nonchalant confidence while also having taut muscles and a focused expression.

“Look alive, team! Pidge, track coordinates.” The communications officer- Pidge, their name was- turns back to their console, muttering their assent, just as the ship begins shaking again; the overhead fluorescent lights flash red and alarms blare from every speaker.

Hunk groans, clutching at his mouth and pushing his monitor away from him. The craft rumbled and shook again, “Knock it off, Klance, please!” he complains, lurching in his seat.

Klance sends a sharp look Hunk’s way, “Oh, this one’s on you, buddy. We’ve got a hydraulic stabilizer out, and, last I checked, that was your area of expertise, not mine.” He turns back to the front window of the craft.

Hunk pulls his monitor back to himself before leaning forward and clamping a hand over his mouth. “Oh, no-” his stomach lurches again and Hunk barely avoids retching. Klance groans, running a hand through his dark hair and rolling his eyes- a kind-of dark indigo-blue.

“Nope! Fix now, puke later, Hunk!” He refocuses intently on the screen. Pidge calls out to their team that they've lost the signal because of the shaking. “It’s interfering with our sensors!” 

Klance drives the base of his palm into his temple, chastising his nauseous teammate as he returns to the screen in front of him. “Ah, nevermind, boys, thar she blows!"

Fatal last words, he thinks, standing in front of Iverson and taking his shit yet again.

"You are the most incompetent officers I've ever seen in this program, and what's more, the worst team! This kind of shit is what cost the lives of the men on the Kerberos mission!" Klance (literally) glowed in anger at that, their two souls dangerously close to splitting. Keith nearly punched Iverson, and Lance barely held them together and shoved a hand over the indignant mouth of his crewmate, Pidge. "Tomorrow'd better be the best run you've ever had or so help me god, you won't live to see the end of this program!" Klance winces at his harsh tone, flinching as spit falls on his face with the end of his sentence. "Get out of my sight," he growls.

"NEXT!"

That night, Klance and Hunk sneak out.

Hunk bites his fingernails, looking around nervously as he and Klance creep down the halls. "This is a bad idea- This- This right here? This is a really bad idea." Klance makes an offhanded, nonchalant noise in response, opening the roof door with a creak. Hunk winces at the sound, head whipping back to see if anyone heard.

A lone figure rests there, hunched intently over a bright screen of numbers. Large headphones engulf a good bit of their head. Klance tiptoes over to them, eyes widening in surprise at the figure being Pidge, then smiles impishly, reaching out one hand to yank off the headset. "You come up here to test your cryptid theories?" Pidge's head turns so fast it gives them whiplash, flailing in the air and losing their balance onto the concrete roof.

"Wha- I- No- What are you doing here? You're the one always complaining about your beauty sleep."

Klance mumbles to himself, "Keith's the one who never washes his goddamn face, but sure,"

Hunk looks at him weirdly, "Dude, what'd you say?"

"Uhh, nothing?"

"Sure, Jan."

"Anyway, what're you doing up here? Shouldn't you be, uhh... Doing... Something? Look, I'm not good at this, okay?" Klance rambles, reaching down to his waist to fiddle with something, but it's not there. He looks almost worried before seeming to remember something.

All this is observed by Hunk, resident goofball, and <strike>crusher on</strike> friend of Klance. He and Klance met on the first day at Garrison, and they've been roommates ever since. Granted, they were governmentally mandated roommates, but they got along happily besides! Hunk has a moderate anxiety disorder, and Klance is usually great with helping him out with it. (In the sims, he got really weirdly focused and couldn't deal with anyone's anxiety but his own, but otherwise he was really good about it.) Hunk suspected that Klance had some sort of behavioural disorder, as he displayed symptoms of ADHD, but found it difficult to remember social cues occasionally.

However, that didn't stop him from being an absolute living meme, and Hunk truly enjoyed being in his <strike>crush's</strike> friend's company.

"So, what're you even doing up here anyway?" Hunk is jolted out of his reverie by Klance peering over Pidge's shoulder at their code.

"You wouldn't understand. Or take me seriously, for that matter."

"Try me."

Pidge sighs, "We're not alone in this universe. Now, I know what that sounds like, with me being an avid cryptid fan, but, seriously." They grow somber. "I've been scanning the solar system, and picking up alien radio chatter."

Hunk shook his head, "What? So- so you mean, like, aliens? They exist?"

Klance looked both skeptical and enthused at the same time, if that was possible. He settled on enthused. "Ahh! Oh my gosh, really? That's so cool! Show me!" He slips on a pair of headphones, his eyes growing brighter as he hears the supposed '"alien radio chatter."

"They've been repeating one word: Voltron."

"Really?"

"Mhm."

"Awesome!"

Their nerding out is interrupted by a bright spot on the horizon. Klance snatches up a pair of binoculars of Pidge's, staring up at the dot of fire. "That ship is not one of ours!" He exclaims, Hunk panicking in the background. It crashes with an explosion behind a hill near the Garrison building.

"We've gotta go check it out!" Pidge jumps up, packing up their tech and running back to the roof door.

"I don't know..." Hunk mumbles.

"C'mon, Hunk! Think of it as a team-building excercise!" Klance dashes after them.

"Oh, this is the worst team-building excercise ever." Hunk grumbles, reluctantly following the pair.

They set up shop on a cliff ledge overlooking the place where the ship crashed. Pidge has their tech out, graphing data from the crash; Klance looks at the crash site, overrun by med techs and officers, through binoculars; Hunk bites his nails worriedly behind them, occasionally commenting on their collected data.

"What the heck's even in that ship?" Klance asks himself, wincing as Keith has a different opinion than Lance. His- Their fingers glow, and <strike>he</strike>they struggles to keep it together.

"Dude, you good?"

"Uhh..." They pull their sleeves over their fingers. "Yeah, all good!" Klance says, high-pitched with the lie, feeling the glow subside as they reassimilate. <strike>They</strike>\- he's going to have to defuse soon. Staying fused after nearly unfusing isn't good for <strike>them</strike>\- him.

"Sure, Jan."

Klance leans over Pidge's shoulder. "How's it coming on that security footage?"

Their eyes are trained completely on the screen. "Almost there... c'mon... got it!" The screen fills with a live feed of inside the ship.

_[Shirogane struggles against restraints.]_

_'You've got to listen to me! Aliens are coming!'_

"Whoa." Klance jerks back from the screen. "That's Takashi Shirogane! The best pilot at the Garrison!" Pidge looks like they want to argue, but stays quiet as Klance continues his rant. "And is that Matt Holt? And they're not even going to listen to them? How dumb can you get?" Klance is shushed and the <strike>quartet</strike> trio returns to the screen.

_"The subjects appear to have cyborg prosthetics, sir. One with an arm, the other a leg."_

_"Put them under until we find out what those things can do."_

_"No, no, don't put me under! You have to listen to me! Listen to me-"_

_[Shirogane's voice cuts off, strangled, as a med tech injects a syringe into his arm. Next to him, another humanoid flails wildly, being put under a similar procedure. The second subject is identified as Matt Holt, though he stays silent.]_

Pidge looks up, wide-eyed, to Klance- except Klance isn't there, he's sprinting towards the ship. Pidge calls out to him, but he's too far. As Klance knocks out the guards with a few well-placed punches, Pidge settles for watching the live feed of the med room.

The med techs inside are taken out swiftly, and Klance lifts both of the patients up- _seriously, this guy has the strength of two men-_ and hefts them out of the ship.

Pidge watches as they exit. Klance picks up a small, round item out of his pocket and lobs it in the opposite direction. A small explosion rocks the area there soon after. He makes his escape swiftly, grabbing an unused Jeep and tossing the pair in. "Pidge! Hunk! C'mon!" He hops in the driver's seat, and Pidge and Hunk race down the hill to meet them.

Sometime along the bumpy journey over sand dunes and rocks, Pidge realizes something. "Do you even know where you're going?" They shout over the motor, sand spraying their face.

He yells back something garbled that sounds like, "No, but Keith should!" and they know they've misheard.

"What?"

"I said, uh, I think I should!"

"Oh, okay!"

It's got to be three in the morning, the moon shining over the Arizona desert, when they finally reach a little middle-of-nowhere, dilapidated shack that looks like it's falling apart slowly under sand spray and wind erosion.

Pidge gives zero fucks, however, and drags Matt in, collapsing on a couch and passing out. Hunk does similarly on a loveseat. Klance situates Shiro on the floor, dragging a couple blankets onto him before going to Keith's tiny, cramped room and defusing.

Lance barely stumbles into Keith's arms before dragging them both into the tiny double trundle bed and tangling their legs together, kissing him sloppily once and passing out five seconds later.

Pidge wakes up with a crick in their neck and a taste like old lemons in their mouth. They yawn and open their eyes blearily, pinching sleep out of their eyes. They snatch up their glasses, smiling in relief at Matt's sleeping form, silhouetted by the desert sunrise. Shiro is curled up next to him, and their hands are clasped together like a lifeline. Pidge chooses to ignore that fact, looking around the small, shabbily furnished room. Something looks a little off, though, and it takes their sleep-addled brain a second to catch up to their surroundings.

Where's Klance?

Memories from last night come rushing in. How did Klance even know this was out here? Is it his?

Pidge shoves themself up forcefully from the couch they passed out on, wandering on unsteady legs down a tiny hallway that has three doors. One is ajar, grimy tile and porcelain visible in the dim light of a bulb on the ceiling that fizzles out soon after they turn it on. The other is a small closet, filled with supplies like rope, a ladder, and _is that a hatchet?_

The last room is firmly shut, and, upon further inspection, is locked with a rusty bolt used well beyond its years. A strong scent of coffee wafts from the room. This must be Klance's room. They knock, "Klance? Y'in there?"

Klance's voice shouts back at them, "Uh, yeah! Be out in a bit!" His voice seems off. It's too gravelly, too masculine, although that could be attributed to waking up.

Inside the room, Keith sighs in relief in tandem with Lance. "C'mon, Lance. Let's fuse." His voice is bored and tired, but the creases in his face light up when he says the word fuse. For them, it's the ultimate form of intimacy and closeness, something physical contact just can't compare to. Opening your mind, being vulnerable to your partner and sharing your entire self with them- it's perfect to them.

Lance makes grabby hands at Keith, pulling him close and giggling at his truly elegant squawk of surprise. Lance presses himself against Keith, and then they're not Lance and Keith, not two separate beings, they're one. Klance.

Klance shrugs on a black t-shirt and Lance's green army jacket, undoing the bolt on the door and stretching. He slips on a pair of flip-flops, trudging towards the kitchen and setting a pot of coffee. He mutters a greeting to Pidge, dutifully ignoring their questions about their location, and fries up some bacon and scrambled eggs. Toast? In the toaster. Plates? On the table. Hotel? Trivago.

Pidge pours the coffee on Klance's request, refilling the pot and handing out mugs to people. Hunk is shaken awake, and Shiro is woken up by the smell of coffee. He and Matt sit quietly in the corner, sipping coffee and watching their surroundings warily.

The strange congregation perches on various bits of furniture, eating quietly, when Pidge pipes up, "Okay. Enough's enough. Where are we?"

Klance sighs. "This belonged to my parents." It's not technically a lie.

Pidge raises an eyebrow, "I thought your parents were from Cuba. They pick you up every year."

Lie, lie, lie. Deflect, deflect. "Uh... a couple generations ago, the conquistadors came here and a couple eloped?"

"The conquistadors were Spanish."

"Fuck."

"It's mine," Shiro puts in. "I gave it to K- Klance before I 'went off gallivanting into space,' as your mother would put it." He smiles weakly.

Pidge rounds on him, "You know Klance? From where?"

"Hey, hey, let's calm down. We don't need to know all the answers at once," Matt puts in sleepily. Pidge practically vaults over the table to get to him.

"Matt! You're okay! What happened to your leg? I knew you were alive! They kept saying you were dead but I never believed them, oh my god, Matt, you're alive!"

"Yeah, I noticed." Matt says tiredly.

After breakfast, Klance puts their ragtag team into employ to... drumroll please... Clean the cabin! They all work together, and, with some music from Klance's iPod _(all his stuff is purple, red or blue. It's creepy, almost. Like those colours mean something. -Pidge, making observations as they enter the rich life of a Garrison student.)_, they make quick work of it.

After they've finished cleaning, the group drapes themselves over a variety of furniture. Pidge spies a sheet covering something in a corner. Unable to sate their curiosity otherwise, they walk up to it, yanking down the sheet and gasping at the board behind it. Pictures connected by strings and charts and graphs cover the corkboard. Star charts depict the exact date and time that Shiro and Matt arrived. Pictures and data readings of a giant mechanical thing litter its surface.

"Hey, Klance?"

"Yeah, Pidgeotto?"

"What's this?"

"Shit."

"Alright, everyone! Gather round, children, because it's time for Uncle Klance to tell you a story," Klance calls the group to sit in a semicircle around the closest chair to the corkboard. "Okay. So, I've been sneaking out at night." It's not technically a lie, because Keith had been sneaking out to the shack and Lance had entertained his "crackpot conspiracy theories." "But, while Hunk-a-burnin'-love over here thought I was sucking dick, I was actually coming out here. There's this crazy energy out here. It felt... Almost like it was calling me to search. So I did. And I found this cave with these weird lion carvings."

Pidge jumps up, "Do you think that that's Voltron? Weird energy, that could be aliens."

Hunk hums, considering. "Could be. Do you have proof?"

"Yeah. I've been tracking the energy. It's a tangible thing, like something on the periodic table. It's not any element I've ever seen before, though."

"Maybe I could build something to look for it, like a Voltron Geiger counter."

"Sure. The wavelength is so weird. It looks like this." Klance holds up a sheet of graphing paper with a seemingly random red line on it.

Matt snaps his fingers, "Give me that!" He snatches the paper, muttering an apology as he lifts it up to a picture of the cliffs near the cave. The red lines up with the outline of the cliffs almost exactly.

Hunk whistles. "Creepy, my man."

The group treks through craggy terrain made of crumbling reddish rock. Hunk and Pidge have a complicated setup of wires and junk parts going. Although the sound of the makeshift tech is annoying, the group follows with minimal complaint (apart from Klance, who says what Keith's thinking with Lance's attitude.). They approach a cave, Klance leading the way once he starts recognizing landmarks ("Ooh! I remember busting my ankle on that rock!" -Klance. "Dude, that's why you couldn't walk for a week?" -Hunk. "Oh, I thought he just got really fucked out." -Pidge. "Language!" -Shiro. "Yeah, watch your fucking language, kiddies." -Matt.)

The group stands at the mouth of the cave, peering down into the dank, dripping gloom. "Well!" Klance bounds forward, "This is the cave, so, if you'll excuse the miscellaneous coffee cups, various pieces of tech and other junk lying around, let's go!"

Matt shoves his hands into the pockets of his borrowed hoodie, looking at the cool carvings everyone is gawking over. "I don't see what's so special about carved rock," Matt says, wiping the dust and rock debris from one of the carvings of a lion.

A piercing noise, not unlike a sound effect in a show or movie, emits from the walls, and the carvings glow bright blue. The blue energy spiderwebs across the cavern floor like cracks, and that's about when the floor collapses and they all splash down into a lower level in the cavern.

In a gigantic blue bubble- the same colour as the carvings glowed- lays an equally gigantic blue mechanical lion. Klance hums and steps forward. Shiro gasps. "So this is what's been causing all this crazy energy out there."

Pidge gulps and rubs their eyes, "So this is it? This is the Voltron?"

Klance shrugs, "Must be-"

**_Five lions_**, a voice rumbles in their minds, deep and timeless. **_Five lions become one. Six souls, one bond. Deeper than life itself. The bond of the lion. Voltron._**

"Did everyone else just see that?"

"Voltron is a robot. Voltron is a huge, huge, awesome robot!"

"And this is only one part of it. I wonder where the rest of them are!"

Klance steps forward, pressing his hands against the bubble, "Now, I wonder how we can get in here."

Matt shrugs. "Maybe you just have to knock?" He raps his fingers against the bubble, jumping back when it disappears and the lion's head moves down to him, opening its jaw. He laughs. "Well, alrighty then," smirks, and walks up the platform.

Klance glows blue and red behind him.

"You," Klance says between gasping breaths. "Are the worst. Pilot. Ever!"

"Pidge has told me that you thought I was one of the best pilots at the Garrison, so, like..."

"Shut your fuu_UCK_!" Klance trips on his own feet in the cramped cockpit.

Iverson and a lower-ranked officer stand on the roof, a pair of binoculars shared between them.

"What in the Sam Hill is that?"

"It appears to be a flying blue lion, sir."

Matt grins back at the others. "Isn't this awesome?"

Hunk makes a motion as if to vomit. "Make it stop! Make it stop!"

"I'm not doing anything. It's like it's on autopilot!"

The blue lion soared ever higher.

"MAKE IT STOP!"

"I just said, it's on autopilot!"

"Hey, what's that up ahead?"

"Holy crap- is that an alien ship?"

"They found us."

Matt tries to steer the lion as best he can. He feels a rumbling in his chest- like the lion is trying to speak with him- and he listens. "Guys the lion is talking to me. It says we need to fight the alien ship."

"Okay, you're crazy," Klance grumbles.

"What did it say, exactly?" Pidge asks, short of breath.

"I- It's not like it's saying words, more like feeding ideas into my brain, kind of."

Hunk spoke up. "Well, if this is the weapon they want, why don't we just, like, give it up? Then they'll leave us alone, right?"

Shiro glares at him. "You don't understand. These monsters spread like a plague throughout the galaxy, destroying everything in their path. They won't stop until everything is dead, and giving them this weapon won't help anyone."

Everyone turns to look at Hunk.

"...Oh. Nevermind, then."

The Galra ship, which previously was lying cold and dead in space, opens fire at them as they breach the atmosphere.

"We have to get that ship out of here!" Pidge says frantically.

"Okay, I'll try!" Matt says, shooting lasers and avoiding recapture, moving away from Earth.

Inside the ship, a Galra officer faces a large screen. "Lord Zarkon, the escaped prisoners and their people found the lion. It attacked us and is heading out of the system."

On the screen, Zarkon's magnified face says, "Follow that Lion and alert all ships in the area to intercept. Capturing that Lion is your first and only priority."

"Yes, your majesty." The call ends, and the galra turns their head back. "FULL POWER AFTER THE LION!"

The lion speeds away, the Galra ship in close pursuit. Hunk bites his nails. "Oh, no!"

In front of the lion, a huge circle of swirling bluish-purplish light opens up in front of them. "I think the lion wants us to go through there!"

Pidge furrows their brow, "Do we know where it goes? Matt?"

Matt defers to Shiro. "I don't know. Shiro, you're the highest-ranked officer here. What do we do?"

Shiro picks at his cuticles. "Um- Okay. Whatever's happening, the Lion probably knows more than we do. If we don't listen to it, we might die in this ship. I say we follow what it thinks, but we're the only humans up here. We're a team now."

Matt nods at him, shoving the controls forward and blasting through the air to get to the wormhole. Klance shifts nervously.

"Guess we're all ditching class tomorrow."


End file.
